Weekend Seduction
by TheSouthernScribe
Summary: Another About Last Night Outtake. A weekend with Nyota and Spock's badboy older brother. Adult themes. Shameless attempted smut.


_I like bad boys…I couldn't help but to revisit the obvious chemistry that existed between the two in the prequel…_

_Plus everyone is at a tradeshow this week for work...I have way too much free time on my hands_

_**Weekend Seduction**_

_**(Seduction: something that seduces or has the qualities to seduce; an enticement)**_

"Don't call me, I'll call you."

Those were the last words Nyota had spoken to Sybok on her doorstep. She had checked her phone fifteen times in the last five minutes. He hadn't called; texting was not against the rules. He didn't even say much. A simple hello or a question in reference to what she was doing at the moment. It was enough, just the right amount of attention to cause her mind to race with memories of how she had stroked the prickly hair adorning the top of his head; the way his baritone voice created vibrations when he laughed into her ear. She closed her eyes and the scent of him filled her nose.

Spock had not been her first. He had been the best and most experienced lover she had until…

_Sybok_

"Shit." She hissed under her breath. Hadn't she gone on a high and mighty tangent about how she deserved more than being just a simple piece of ass; a means to an end that resulted in a climax. No right now she needed the culmination of pleasure. Her body craved it. The most difficult part of this relationship ending, training her body to no longer need the touch of a man. Nyota's fingers could only take her so far, before the cold and stale air of the room would remind her that it was her fingers not his. "Fuck." She screamed louder this time already formulating a plan.

"No." With one last yell, Nyota tossed her phone into her bag, ignoring the range of faces Hikaru had displayed in response to her little temper tantrum. He shook his head, knowing by now that his friend would cave.

She did.

Two weeks later Nyota woke up in Sybok's bed on a Saturday morning; limbs sore and numb from the previous night's activities. Delightful memories were swirling around her head.

She had called after two week's worth of text messages and emails rehashing what had happened between them. Idle threats were made about what he would do if he ever saw her again and much like her best friend's new boyfriend, she never backed down from a challenge.

"Who am I to deny you an opportunity?"

That was close enough to yes for him. Sybok had a car waiting at the museum for her when she left work Friday afternoon. The driver took her to an upscale spa, where she received every delight possible, massage, manicure, pedicure, facial, waxing, styling, and makeup. One of the attendants handed her an envelope with a glass of wine as she waited between services.

A simple note inside, _Can't wait to see you…taste you…feel you_

The script was in his hand writing. Just the thought, picture, image, of his mouth speaking those words did things to her body that no one could possibly understand. This was sick and she was twisted for even enjoying what was soon to come.

Night had fallen on the city by the time Nyota drifted back to the waiting car. The driver was quiet, turning up the music when Nyota requested. The heat coming threw the seats sent her deeper into relaxation as she stretched her legs across the leather, reclined her head, and listened to the soulful voice of the man on the radio. The paved city roads were soon replaced by dirt and gravel. They were getting closer and her stomach was in knots.

Excited…

Nervous…

Shame filled…

He was waiting a top the porch, like a lion surveying his pride. A cloud of steam left his mouth as he exhaled; the heat of his body mingling with the coolness of the night air. Goosebumps lined her skin with the thoughts of how those lips touched and tasted the most delicate regions of her body.

This wasn't love, infatuation, or a crush. Despite that knowledge, Nyota found her self bouncing from the car and into his waiting arms. She shivered from fear and he knew it.

"You can turn around now and go home. No questions."

She shook her head no against his chest; taking in the scent of masculinity. Crumbling as the weight of his arms crashed around her. Now along with the goose bumps, the hair covering her body stood at attention. He towed her closer and she raised her face to meet the lips waiting for her.

Sybok's kiss was surprisingly gentle. To anyone watching, they would have appeared to be lover's greeting one another after a long week apart. She was high from the precise way his tongue parted her lips, demanding access to the warmth of her mouth. He moaned and the sensation traveled through her body igniting the flame that had already began to flicker between her legs. She broke their kiss, needing to clear her head and build enough confidence to continue with this disastrous plan.

Sybok stared at her again, seeking confirmation, and Nyota gave him a tight smile and slight nod of the head. He waved the driver away and the headlights from the car that once illuminated them disappeared into the darkness. She could see the gleam in his eye, the reflection of a few faint stars in the sky creating a beautiful effect. His lips found her neck, "I'm hungry."

"What's for dinner?" Nyota knew the answer, but this was a mental game as well as physical.

"You."

One word and her legs went weak. His tongue drew a line from the base of her neck to the back of her ear, where he whispered, "Do you feel how much I want you?" He brushed against her and she felt all of him, "That's for you."

It was misogynistic and sexually degrading, but somehow it gave her the primal push she needed. Nyota drew Sybok closer, digging her nails into the skin of his back under his shirt. They were both fighting for control and finally she won when she gathered his bottom lip between her teeth before pressing him into the door.

His laugh was refreshing against the sensitive and swollen skin of her lips, "Someone came to play."

"Shut up and do all those things you promised to when you saw me again."

In one swift movement, Nyota found her back against the door, arms pinned above her head, and those lips. The ones she had fantasized about for the last month ghosting across her face, down her neck, between her breasts, and on the smooth flat plane of her stomach. She squirmed, fighting to take the reigns back, and he tightened his grasp on her wrist with one hand, while the other, made easy work of unbuttoning her shirt. His hands were warm as they brushed across the lace covering her breasts. He was on his knees now, staring up at her. Her breath hitched as he separated the closure of her bra, revealing nipples that were eagerly anticipating his mouth.

Again, Nyota writhed, as his lips closed around her left breast, pulling the nipple between his teeth and tickling it lightly with his tongue. She groaned. They were outside, for any and every one to see and she didn't give a damn. His lips switched to the right breast, while his free hand pulled at her left nipple. She was out of her league.

Sybok's hand moved to the button of her jeans, swiftly undoing it, just like he had her control. His hand passed the barrier of lace and inside found her wetness, and she moaned. He was staring, watching every reaction to his touch, and she burned, wanting more.

She worked his fingers, creating the friction needed to heighten her pleasure. He pulled away, "Not yet."

She could have cried. He knew it and the wicked smile he gave before cleaning those fingers that had just been buried inside of her threatened the emotional detachment she was trying to build. This man knew her body and he was driving her crazy.

Sybok stood and released Nyota's hands from his grasp. He took one hand in his and pressed it against the growing bulge in his pants. She stroked him through the denim. Watching as he gave in to the sensation she was creating. His head fell to her shoulder and he buried his face in her neck.

Nyota used her free hand to lower his zipper, releasing the part of him that wanted her the most. He was dripping already and she used that to her advantage, coating him as she stroked. Eliciting sounds that bordered on curses and pleas. He pumped against her, positioning a hand on either side of her head as he attempted to maintain his balance. She felt him swell with each groan and she knew he was close. Dropping to her knees, she took him in her mouth, swallowing, and working; until she had every inch. He released with a shout. Panting and struggling to regain his composure, she wiped her mouth, and stood in front of him; a confident smile gracing her face.

"Nyota, one, Sybok, zero."

Why had she boasted?

Sybok had her pressed into the mattress, backside slightly elevated, and those fingers, the ones that knew the exact spot to massage were inside of her. His tongue joined them and it took his free arm to keep her from melting into the bed. He was relentless, assaulting the very depths of her walls. She pushed against his face wanting more and when he answered she squirmed attempting to head for the safety of the pillows.

"Don't run." Sybok whispered against Nyota's clit and she knew with the next stroke of his fingers accompanied by his tongue, she would come all over his face. He knew it too, "Let me taste you."

In mid climax he buried his length inside of her, filling her, and she cried out again, she had stopped counting, after the second round. Nyota arched her back into Sybok, taking more and more, answering each thrust with a grind of her own. He was packing her with every delicious inch. He dragged her back by her hair, whispering deviant thoughts in her ears. Did his brother fuck her like that? Could he make her come in so many different positions? She told him to shut the fuck up and do his job, this wasn't sibling rivalry. He obeyed and she rode him to sleep.

The morning revealed a new day. Sybok's lips started at the curve of Nyota's butt and landed on her shoulder, where he offered a warm cup of coffee as a peace offering. She sat up, accepting the mug, and enjoying every decadent bit of pain in her limbs.

He had inherited the family eyebrow quirk, "Your place or mine next weekend?"

Nyota rose up on her knees, straddling Sybok's lap, "This weekend's not over."


End file.
